


I'll Protect You

by HelmetParty



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: (In which they both hurt each other), (They fight), Angst and Feels, Character Study, Crying, Dog death, F/M, Home Invasion, Lots of the following:, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, More Crying, Physical Abuse, Pre-Recall, mercykill - Freeform, remembering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-07-02 01:21:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15786051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HelmetParty/pseuds/HelmetParty
Summary: One of her hands rests on his face, cupping his cheek, the other around his neck, trying to keep him up. She's crying, her tears falling on his heavy black armor. It's only when one tear touches his face that his eyes open and his arm grabs hers.





	I'll Protect You

**Author's Note:**

> _Loosely (but not really) follows OW canon. It's basically me being a better writer than Michael Cuck.I really like this ship, but more importantly, I hate Overwatch canon. Here's to the Mercykill stans._

Everything is a blur, but only sometimes. Skin would distort and deteriorate, floating into black dust. The first feeling was just plain weird, it didn't hurt, but that changed. Either way, Moira seemed happy when this happened, she seemed pleased with herself and told Gabriel that he was doing so well. He felt like a pet, a dog, happily rewarded for allowing himself to be contorted and twisted into something almost inhuman.

But that was _then._ This was _now._

The pain was almost unbearable now. His skin would sometimes do this involuntary; turn to ash and smoke. But it was different when it happened without his consent, it was painful, agony. Every time it happened it got worse and worse. Gabriel felt like his body was on fire from the inside. Once, when he felt his stomach drop and could tell another 'passing' was going to happen, as he called it, he tried to take a cold shower. Anything to stop the torturous pain, but this proved to be useless. He slid down the pale white shower and fell, curled in a ball. Black slime and ash covered the wall, even after it was over. His body once again started to shift into shadow, and he no longer felt his bottom half. Gabriel bit his lip, crying involuntarily. His breath hitches and he bled from biting too hard, but he didn't notice. It was times like this that he tried to remember something, anything, any pleasant memory to ease his aching body and hopeless mind.

Nothing. Blankness. The only images in his mind were those of former Overwatch agents, but no specific memory came to his aid. He can hear words in his head, but the voices are mumbles, unable to be pinned down to any scenario or person. He can see, in his mind, the memories floating away with his body; like dust, like ash. With his body, he feels like his own self turns to shadow. And with each passing, he became something different. It was if a little more of him didn't come back each time, and sooner or later, the result would be something completely different. A new person entirely.

There are months that go by. Those months turn into years until Reaper is unable to remember how much time has truly passed. He forgets much of who he was before now, but the difference is that now he doesn't care. He takes missions, he has a list, and he is a _killer._ He has his talents, and they are put to use by Talon. There's a lingering feeling of anger in him, which he doesn't quite understand but once again refuses to care. Reaper uses it as a tool to keep himself going, to keep himself motivated.

There is downtime until the next mission. Reaper takes it upon himself to seize the moment and takes another look at his list. Former Overwatch agents, now disbanded and in completely separate parts of the world. He has direct orders from Talon to attempt to turn some former high ranking members double, but he has full clearance to kill if given trouble. He looks through the list of names, some have places or whereabouts attached to them and others don't. A few would prove difficult at the very least to track down, so he still needed time. He filters the names to only those with concrete locations attached, and only a few names pop up. Mostly low ranking recruits, none that would be exactly burdensome to capture or kill, but they were low hanging fruit at best, and truthfully, he wasn't interested. However, there is a name at the top of the list that sends his heart pounding; 

 _Angela Ziegler_. AKA, " _Mercy_."

He can't remember. It _hurts_ but he can't remember. All he can recall was that she was the head doctor and battle medic in Overwatch during its duration as a group. There's a thick fog in his head, blocking something, but he decides to ignore it. Either way, he had time, and she was working in a Swiss hospital back in her country of origin. They were stationed in France for the moment anyway, it would be barely a two-hour flight in Talons' stealth plane. It would be closer than flying to America or Japan to pick off the old recruits.

That's it, then, Reaper decides. He walks from his room to tell of his plan to the subordinates who would fly him there. Besides, they could use a successful mission. 

* * *

"Thank you for staying late again, Dr. Ziegler," the receptionist says, her voice quivering somewhat. There is a massive line of people even now. "Take care," Angela replies, a half smile on her face, her eyes drowsy with dark tiredness and her heels seemingly out to kill her back. With a black travel bag stationed in between her elbow and her arm, she takes her keys from it and walks hurriedly to her car. This was the third day in a row that she had stayed overtime. There was just so many people at the ER lately, and though they had many cures available at stores for many things, there were just some things that couldn't be cured with over the counter drugs and a little hope. And even now, there are omnic attacks all over the world, gangs of them too. 

The car ride home is quiet. The rain pitters on her windshield, and the short highway ride home eases her nerves. She's exhausted and ready for a glass of wine and a nice six-hour sleep. Her radio spurrs quiet jazz, and her mind hums with ideas of relaxation. A bath sounded good, too, but she was not confident in her ability to stay awake during it.

 It only takes fifteen minutes to ride home to her sizable home. It was a rental, but only for the moment, until she had time off to figure out if she wanted to buy a home and settle down after all. She had met a quite nice woman a while ago, another doctor, although she preferred private clinics and was nowhere near as stressed as Angela. They were quite a pair, but Angela was still unsure if she was truly ready to lay down with life yet. And she understood, and never pressured Angela to change her mind.

 With two beeps, her car is locked. She takes off her red heels, holding them in her hands and running towards her front door, eyes focusing on which key was her front doors'. She, however, neglects to see the stairs and trips and falls to the cold hard concrete. With a tiny yelp, her head hits the stairs and instantly a shooting pain soars through her. "Fuck!" She yells instinctively, hissing through her teeth as the rain slams down on her tired body. She frantically begins to pick up everything and dizzily struggles to find the right key. She goes through and picks a random one, and slides it in the keyhole. 

 The door opens. 

 She doesn't think about it. She walks through the door, throws her bag onto her table, and rips her jacket off. She slams the door behind her and huffs, standing still for a moment. Angela runs her hand through her hair, and closes her eyes, trying to calm herself down. She was just tired, is all, that was it. A good nights rest would fix everything tomorrow.

 Angela walks straight to her bathroom and closes the door to look in the mirror. Her head was bleeding, a cut on her right temple. She examines it and quickly bandages it, deciding that it didn't need stitches, and if it did she could just do it tomorrow. As she's looking at herself in the mirror, she begins to idly think and realizes a few odd things; things that didn't add up.

 Louis didn't come to the door when she got home. He didn't even bark. 

 Almost instantly, Angela exits the bathroom and says his name. "Louis? Louis, boy, where are you?" She walks from the bathroom to the kitchen, noticing another strange thing; the light was on. But only the kitchen light.

 She suddenly realizes her peril, and a shiver of fear goes through her. She stands still for a moment, and then when she hears nothing, she races to her bedroom to grab her Caduceus Blaster. She had saved it since her days at Overwatch. She had designed and made it herself, she deserved to keep it. She checks to see if it was still loaded, and it was, thank God. She looks around for her phone and realizes it was still in her coat pocket, which was by the door.

_'Good, at least then I'll be able to get to safety.'_

 Louis sticks in her mind. Was he hurt? He was an older dog, an adopt, and Angela loved him like a son. She decided she couldn't leave without him.

 With a huff, Angela opens her door and runs to the front. Something feels off, like she was about to die, but she kicks those thoughts away as she runs. The front door is still closed like she had left it, but her jacket isn't there. She stands still for a moment, horrified that someone must have known her plan.

 "Looking for this?" A ghostly voice claims behind her. She turns, her weapon pointed up, but she doesn't shoot.

 " _G...Gabriel_?"

  The hooded figure says nothing, instead pushes her with a clawed hand hard against the wall behind her. Angela gasps, the breath knocked straight out of her lungs as she's shoved. She falls forward, her gun almost falling out of her hand, but she holds tight. Quickly she points her weapon back at Gabriel, and fires a shot. It hits his mask, the bone white corner near his right eye shattering. He growls, but still persists her. She shoots another shot, this time in his leg.

It was strong armor. A weapon couldn't hurt him, and she didn't want to kill him.

"W-wait, Gabriel," she says, panting. She holds an arm out to stop his ascent, and it does.

"That's not my name anymore."

 " _Reaper_ , then," she says. She had heard about him from stolen Talon files. What they did to him. What _she_ did to him. _Deplorable_.

 "Don't let them do this to you," she looks up to the masked man with a genuinely sorrowful expression. "Don't let them take away what you were. Don't you remember me?"

 He stops for a moment, his head tilting in confusion. So there was some connection between them, then? For a second, he tries to look into his head, look for any important memory between them. This time, there is a painful static that scratches in his head as he tries to think. Reaper growls and picks Angela up by the neck, but he didn't hurt her. It seemed like he was trying to avoid doing so?

 "I don't need your tricks, doctor," he says, gravely voice angry. "I'll be taking you to headquarters."

 "Gabriel," she says again, her weapon falling to the floor as she held onto his arm, absently trying to pull him away. "W-What they did to you, those experiments," she coughs, "they took away the memories of who you were, but they can't take away who you _are_."

 The painful static is sharper now, so much sharper. It hurts.

 "Please," she begs, trying to look at him. "I was your friend. _I love you_."

 He drops her. She falls to the floor, holding her neck, coughing. Reaper is turned around now, looking at the ground, but not seeing. He's focused on his mind, his head and the static. It burned, like a fire from the inside that would eventually consume everything. He keeps trying to pass it, see what he's missing, to find the missing pieces. His body begins to turn to dust again, involuntary, maybe as a result of his prying. He falls to the ground, his legs and torso turning to shadow. Angela crawls to Gabriel, afraid, not for herself but for _him_. "Gabriel!" she voices worriedly, her hand goes to touch his leg but instead it falls right through. Instantly her scientific mind looks for a cause, but the only image in her mind is Moira. The files she had read we're incomplete, but she knew enough to know that Moira had made mistakes and that she didn't know quite yet how to fix them.

 Angela shakes these thoughts and focuses on Gabriel. His mask was covering his face, she couldn't see what he was feeling. A pang of fear goes through her, however, she knew she needed to do it. With a huff of courage and a pang of bravery, she slowly takes off the white mask. Underneath is Gabriel's face, like she had remembered; his brown eyes, his mouth, his cheekbones. Everything looked the same, but he was older, more scarred. He looked pale, ghostly; like he was dying.

 Maybe that was the case. Maybe he was dying.

 "Gabriel," she says, tears forming in her eyes. "Gabriel, come back to me," she feels for a pulse on his neck but there is nothing. He's shaking and clearly breathing, though, and Angela is unknowing of how to help; and this makes her _afraid_. One of her hands rests on his face, cupping his cheek, the other around his neck, trying to keep him up. She's crying, her tears falling on his heavy black armor. It's only when one tear touches his face that his eyes open and his arm grabs hers.

 "Angela," he says, his voice still the same but with something different. "Angela," he says again, looking up towards her. "My angel" he smiles this time. "Yes, y-yes Gabriel, I'm here," Angela goes down to be closer to him. His arms embrace her, and Angela climbs willingly into it. He's gentle and caring, unlike his cold and harshness before. They stay like this for a short while, Gabriel huddled into Angela like she's the only thing keeping him alive.

 Even now, Angela feels safe.

 " _I'm scared,_ " Gabriel says. He's shaking and crying, too, and even though his body has come back, the static still hissed sharply in his mind.

 Angela pulls his face away from her chest to look him in the eyes, cupping his cheeks safely in her hands.

_"I won't let them hurt you again."_

 He leans into her and Angela gives him a moment to back out. He places their lips together, and Angela melts into it. It's not harsh or quick, but rather slow and loving. Memories float aimlessly through Gabriel's mind like they had been catapulted and we're at the end of their rope. He can remember her now, her eyes, her loving smile and reassuring voice even when his was angry and harsh. She was always there for him, always willing to be a lent hand.

 Gabriel felt sick for forgetting.

 "I'll take care of you," she says quietly, holding him delicately. "We'll figure this out."

 Even now, in pain, in ruin, her voice was a comfort, and he felt safe.

**Author's Note:**

> Tobeymaguire on Tumblr! Reposting to other sites with credit, translations, and promo are appreciated!


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